69
by Laurielove
Summary: Does what it says on the tin, with a bit of a giggle first. Snape, Hermione, and lots of numbers. One shot. Mature readers, please. SS/HG


**I do love lazy Sundays. Earlier today, I realised that I'd never written a single scene with the 69 position. Of course, that presented me with a challenge (cue the Mission Impossible music). So, here's the result. It's a few years after the war. Snape's survived and Hermione is teaching at Hogwarts. **

**It's got a bit of humour and a dominant Snape. What more do you want? ;-)**

**(If you want more writing, me as Demelza Hart has a new story out - Out of the Storm - links on my profile page.) **

**I'll be updating EW and TaGD soon too.**

**I missed Severus. It was fun writing for him again. And now I can tick off another scenario ... Don't know why it's taken me so long. Enjoy. LL x**

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In every school, there is always one class that sends a shiver of terror down the spine of any teacher at the mere whisper of their name. The class that makes you want to shut yourself in the cupboard and not emerge again until the caretaker has done the final lock-ups; the class that makes you want to feign a sudden migraine in order to get out of teaching them; the class that makes you want to apply for a job in that school in east London which has failed its OFSTED inspection five times in a row.

Anything but this class.

At Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, in the year Miss Hermione Granger took up the position of Professor of Transfiguration, that class was 4J.

4J.

The class from hell.

It was bad enough for Hermione having to contend with the exacting academic standards of Professor McGonagall and the snide, dismissive comments of Professor Snape. Why Snape insisted on remaining in the school was beyond her. Surely after the events of the war he would have moved on? The Ministry had offered him many a lucrative position, it was said, but he had chosen instead to remain sequestered away in the Potions classroom, hidden in a haze of fumes and familiarity.

Hermione had almost looked forward to seeing him again on her return. His knowledge and experience would be a boon to her starting out, she had thought. But he had soon made it clear that his attitude and demeanour had not changed. He wasted no time in belittling her efforts and undermining her enthusiasm. School life from the other side was not as straightforward as she had thought it would be.

And now, that Thursday afternoon, she had 4J.

She stood in the Transfiguration classroom – the beautiful room she'd also studied in all those years ago with Professor McGonagall – and waited.

Hermione had survived curses, had battled dragons and vanquished pure evil, but her stomach churned over maliciously as she heard the adolescent voices approaching. There was one voice in particular sure to unsettle even the most indomitable professor – that of Jordan Stokes.

'So I whacked the bludger right at him with a bit of extra power courtesy of my wand. Hit him in the face so hard it knocked him off his broom. He was in the hospital wing over a week.' His gut-propelled laugh of victory preceded him into the classroom. Hermione kept her head down. The class came in and sat – or rather slouched – down. Jordan would alternate his position between the very front and the very back, depending on his mood and his inclination to wreak havoc. If he was tired due to excessive bullying of first years, he'd slump at the back and pick his spots. If he was in a combative frame of mind, he'd sit right at the front and stare her down. He seemed to fancy himself as a developing Romeo. The way he looked at Hermione, deliberately moving his hard gaze from her lips to her chest, made her want to thump him. She tried hard to ignore it. The trouble with Jordan was that he was not only a little shit, but he was a highly intelligent little shit: a lethal combination.

The rest of the class were either too in awe of him or too scared to argue. If he led them a merry dance, they had no choice but to jig along.

'Alright, miss?' he asked with sickly mocking courtesy, slumping down at the front, his legs splayed wide apart.

'Sit down, everyone, we've got a lot to get through today.' She ignored Jordan's question and addressed the class as a whole.

'What's that then? Water into wine? Lollies into joints? When we gonna do that? I'm sick of all this turn a rock into a feather crap.'

'If you use language like that again, Jordan, I'll turn your free time into a detention.'

'Ooh, sorry, miss. I didn't know crap was a bad word. Is it? Is crap really bad? Crap, I say it all the time. I mean, there are worse, aren't there? Worse than c-r-a-p.' He voiced the 'p' with a popping finality.

'I've warned you, Jordan. You know it's unacceptable, so don't do it.'

'Sure, miss.' He smirked. 'You look nice today, miss. Good night, was it?'

Jordan turned to Lee Mason next to him and laughed. His friend laughed back. The rest of the class smirked.

'Open your textbooks to page 97, please.'

'Making an effort, are you? Got someone special?'

'That's enough, Jordan. Get out your book.'

Jordan huffed. 'Aw, miss, see, I don't have it. I was out practising leaf transfigurations, like you said, and the weirdest thing happened. This gryphon or hippogriff or something swooped down from the sky and grabbed it, right there in front of me as I was about to perfect my incredible skills. Poof! Gone.' More laughter.

'If that's the case, here's another one.' She tossed a textbook at him so that it landed with a heavy thud on his desk. 'The price of twenty knuts will be added to your school bill.'

'Wha'?'

'You heard me. Be more careful next time.'

He shrugged, the wind knocked from his sails briefly. 'Well, I'll … I'll have a look … maybe it dropped it in the forest or something … it may turn up.'

'You have until tomorrow.'

That shut him up for a few minutes. Hermione began. It was an academic lesson, with a lot of the work done from their books. Facts and figures. Jordan was sure to be enthralled. Not. Hermione waited for the next interruption.

She stood tall, making her points clearly. 'It is vitally important that the correct numbers are used in these more tricky spells. If you were to rotate your wand twelve times instead of eleven, say, the results could be very different. If you extend your arm eight inches instead of nine, you could end up with more than you bargained for.'

'How long is nine inches exactly, miss? This long? This?' Jordan was holding his hands up, palms facing each other, moving them in and out as he pondered the length.

'Measure it on a ruler.'

'Roughly, miss. I need to know. You said it was very important.'

'It's about …' She made the mistake of putting her hands up. With a sigh, knowing she'd put her foot in it, Hermione continued, almost wanting to shut him up by surprising him with her compliance. 'This long.' She put her hands roughly the correct distance apart. The class could not suppress its laughter. Hermione felt herself blushing.

'Wow. That's big, isn't it, miss? Is that the right length, then? The right length to satisfy you? Do you always insist on a full nine inches?'

'Moving onto Chapter 13, page 257. Sorry, I mean 237.' She was flustered. She kept her head down and concentrated on the book. 'Maintaining order in spellcraft. It is wise to write out a numerical order of process before attempting any spell. If you attempt the second element before the third, for example, it could go wrong. If you raise your wand 50 degrees before turning it 90 degrees, that could be disastrous.'

'Lots of numbers today, aren't there? Are we supposed to remember all this?' came the predictable interjection.

'It's all in the book, Jordan.'

He looked behind him at his classmates with a lop-sided grin. 'I find it helps to remember numbers if you can associate them with something.'

Hermione looked at him, pleased he'd actually added something useful to the lesson. 'That's right, Jordan. Good idea. Making links and associations is an excellent aid to memory.'

'Yeah. For example, I can always remember exactly how many drops of sap to put in an infusion of wormwort.'

This was suddenly going very well. 'Fantastic, Jordan. Go on then. What is it?'

He paused and gave a little smirk. '69, miss.'

More giggles.

She crossed her arms. 'I see. Very clever.'

'What, miss?' He held his hands out to the side and looked around with a sly grin on his face. '69. Good number. If you turn it upside down it looks the same. That's all I meant. Did you think I meant something else?'

'No.'

'You did, didn't you? Miss! I'm shocked. You thought I meant its associations with … ' He gasped and hung his head in his hands. 'I'm disappointed that you'd be thinking of something like that in class, miss. Miss, you thought I meant the sexual position, didn't you?' He got up with a frown, stood on the table, raised himself to his full height, pointed at her and declared in a booming voice. 'Professor Granger, get your mind out of the gutter!' The class fell about in hysterics. Hermione's heart dropped from within her.

'Is there a problem?'

Things had just got even worse. Her heart was now somewhere underfoot. Severus Snape was standing in the doorway.

Hermione sighed and raised her eyes to the ceiling. Snape swept in, his black robes billowing familiarly around him. The class had suddenly gone very quiet.

'Stokes – down.'

Jordan scampered off the table instantly. For the first time this lesson, he bore an expression of sobriety.

'What is the meaning of this, Stokes?'

'Professor Granger was getting us to remember lots of numbers, sir. It was all a bit confusing. I was just suggesting a way to remember some.'

'And this required standing on the desk?'

'Professor Granger said I was being rude, sir. I wasn't, sir. It was her, sir. She implied that I was talking about a –' He coughed loudly then delivered his next words in an exaggerated stage whisper. ' - a … umm … _sexual position_. But actually it was her who was thinking about it. Ask her. She'll tell you all the details.' He smirked, trying to bite back his mirth.

Snape's eyes flicked to Hermione before he narrowed them and looked back at Stokes. 'Trying to remember numbers, you say?'

'That's right, sir. That's all it was,' said Stokes.

Snape eyed him coldly. 'Here are some numbers for you. 20 sides of A4 - 500 lines - of 'I will not stand on tables and behave like the incontinent, mewling spawn of Medusa again.' On my desk by 9pm tonight. Do you think you can remember those numbers, Stokes?'

Jordan swallowed hard and nodded. 'Yes, sir.' His voice was uncharacteristically subdued.

'Good. Now, class dismissed. You have Herbology, if I'm not mistaken.'

The class, including Jordan Stokes, kept their heads down and hurried out. Nobody, not even 4J, argued with Professor Snape.

Hermione turned her back and shuffled some parchments on her desk. She hoped to hear Snape's footsteps marching out. She didn't.

'Miss Granger, a word.' He was still there. He never called her Professor. It niggled, but, at the same time, it reminded her of the past, and that was surprisingly comforting.

She turned to him, trying to retain a calm demeanour. 'Professor Snape?'

'Are you finding it difficult to control your class, Miss Granger?'

'I admit that 4J can be harder than the others, particularly when Jordan Stokes decides to play up.'

'Establishing discipline is the first thing every good teacher should ensure. I am disappointed you have failed in this.'

'Only this one time, Professor. You know what he can be like.'

'I don't. I have never had a problem with Stokes.'

'Well, you have considerably more experience than me. I suppose I still have a bit to learn.'

'Clearly.' His lips curled into that familiar sneer. She swallowed. He was staring at her intently; it made something inside her twist.

'What exactly …' He stepped into her, stopping only a foot or so away. 'Did Stokes mean?'

'About what?'

'About … _sexual positions_?'

Hermione felt herself going bright red. She tried to look away but was somehow unable to.

'Umm …'

He seemed to be closer than ever. 'Yes?'

'He mentioned the number … 69.'

There was a pause. Why was she still looking straight at him and he at her? He had very large eyes. Dark eyes. She'd always noticed. She noticed them even more now.

'69?'

'Yes. It's called that because one person lies upside down next to the other and they both –'

He cocked an eyebrow, cutting her off. 'Yes, Miss Granger. I am familiar with why it's called the 69 position.'

She couldn't think of anything else. Of course. The only image her mind now provided her with was a naked Professor Snape next to a naked her, lying top to tail with each other, using their mouths in decidedly creative ways.

It wasn't an unappealing image.

She was still staring at him. He was still staring at her. He was standing very close, closer than ever, she thought.

'Miss Granger.'

'Yes?'

'You have sixteen freckles across your nose and cheeks.'

'Do I?'

'Yes.'

'Oh.'

He was even closer. Now he was staring at her mouth. Closer.

His lips met hers.

And it was bloody wonderful. Her hands curled around his neck and held him there. His closed on her waist and pulled her into him. She opened to him and there they stayed, kissing, inhaling the other, fingers tangling in hair, limbs gripping and twining.

'Miss Granger.' He eventually broke away from her mouth and kissed down her neck, which she arched for him.

'Yes?'

'This business of … 69 …'

'Hmm …'

'I think it requires further discussion.'

'Yes. It does. Definitely.'

'Now?'

'Now.'

'My rooms. Five minutes.'

'Yes. Five minutes.'

He broke away, his face dark with desire, his hair dishevelled. With the slightest smirk, Snape turned on his heels and paced from her room, just as a group of students passed along the corridor beyond.

-xoOox-

Hermione arrived at his rooms in the dungeons after four minutes and fourteen seconds, to be exact. But he was ready. As soon as she set foot in his classroom, he took her hand and pulled her through into his bedroom, shutting the door hard behind them. Then he was back to holding her again, kissing her, and this time he was ridding her of her clothes.

This was madness, wasn't it? But never had madness felt so good and so right. She scrabbled for his buttons, cursing their amount. She counted in her head as she undid them … eleven, twelve, thirteen. Lucky for her. Underneath he wore a white shirt which hung loose over his lean frame. He helped her pull it off and she immediately lowered herself to his pale skin, planting soft kisses over him. With a soft sigh, he held her there for a time, his head back, his eyes closed.

When she drew herself up again, they soon lost the rest of their clothes and fell back onto the bed, curling into each other. Only then did they stop for breath. He held her head in his hands and smiled gently, not a smirk or a sneer, but the most gentle smile she could imagine. 'I've wanted this for so long.'

Had he? She smiled and nodded, kissing him again. 'Me too.'

He moved over her and kissed her again, tongue deep and possessive this time, then, kneeling up, he put his hand on her hip and pulled her over so that she was lying on her side.

'Now, Miss Granger, on the matter we were discussing earlier …'

Severus moved to lie down, but turned the other way to Hermione, bringing his head towards her legs. She stifled a gasp at the sight before her.

The full nine inches.

For a moment she could only stare. He'd kept that hidden well, but then, flowing black robes hid a multitude of sins … or sinful pleasures, at least.

Long, warm fingers were parting her legs, pulling the right one up. Those same fingers then grazed up towards the apex of her legs. Hermione held her breath in anticipation. He parted her outer lips and then – she now forgot to breathe altogether – he lowered his head and licked.

A little moan, almost like the mewling of a kitten, rose from Hermione. Her eyes were closed. Gods, he was clever. Well, she knew that, but hadn't realised his talents would extent to … this.

Severus licked and sucked, little darting flutters which entranced her clit to swell and ripen for him, urging her to seek more. She pressed against him and he responded eagerly, opening his mouth and attaching it to her clit before moving around and licking long and hard, over and over, along the length of her.

She could stay like this forever, but then, on a particularly forceful lick, she shot her eyes wide open and came face to face with her part of this symbiotic dance. He was attending to the 6; it was up to her to attend to the 9.

Now, faced with what Hermione was facing, many girls would turn and flee, but Hermione Granger was nothing if not determined. There it was, full and long and hard, gleaming in anticipation. While Severus ensured her pleasure brewed nicely, she opened her mouth and gave him a little lick. She heard a moan, but he didn't pause in his own ministrations. Opening wide, she closed her mouth over the head. It was impossible to get much more in, but she curled her fingers around the shaft and held him tight while starting to ply him with her lips.

It must have worked, as he stopped what he was doing for a minute and moaned. It was the most erotic moan she had ever heard, a low, guttural rumble from the very heart of him. She redoubled her efforts. Soon, they were both absorbed in a mutual duty of pleasure, lapping, sucking and licking, lost in their own task and the approaching rapture they eked from the other.

If she stopped to think about it, she would probably be as aghast as she had been when Jordan Stokes stood on his desk and yelled at her. Here she was, lying on Professor Snape's bed, giving him head while he ate her out.

Yes!

That switch flicked in her head and hunger for his cock surged. She went at him desperately, swirling her tongue over the head before flittering it along the slit, then licking long and slow down the shaft to the root.

All the while, he was entrancing her sex. Two fingers were in her pussy while his tongue danced along, tripping over her clit lightly then attacking it with precision. For a moment, she drew back from his cock with a gasp, but she was soon back.

They were delirious with mutual pleasure. Knowing that he was feeling what she was brought her climax to the brink quickly. Severus latched onto her clit and sucked. She came suddenly and completely, pulling away for a moment to cry out the extreme rapture which rolled through her. But as it died away she returned, drawing him as deep into her as she could, pumping his length with her hand, damp with her devotion. She heard that low moan again, even deeper this time. The muscles in his legs tensed suddenly and she felt his release. Three, four times, his cock shot warm, salty liquid into her mouth. She took it all, delighting in the pleasure she'd given him.

Hermione let her head fall back on the bed and turned over to stare above her. 'Unbelievable,' she murmured.

'Why?' came the low voice beside her. Severus had turned and was now lying beside her, the same way up this time.

She looked at him in amazement. 'You. Me. I just …'

'Do you regret it?' His voice was serious.

She looked hard into him. Did she? Hermione brought up a hand to stroke his face. 'No. Not at all.'

'Good. Because I've only just started. Now … here's a number for you, Miss Granger: six.'

'What?'

'Six.'

'What do you mean? Six what?'

'That's how many times I'm going to make you come before you're allowed to leave my room.'

And even Hermione Granger couldn't argue with that.

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**LL x**

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